


pair

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 09:37:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3244832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	pair

" _Women_ ," Sirius concluded, flourishingly, and stole Remus's goblet out of his hand to take a swig of it. Remus attempted to frown up at him, but found that it was far too much effort to tilt his head back that far, and settled for frowning vaguely at Sirius's knee, which happened to be on a comfortable line of sight. Sirius had his own goblet, which he was naturally refraining from drinking from because he'd put it down on the nightstand and was now too lazy to lean across the bed for it, and anyway Remus's was closer. The several bottles of red wine had been James's bit of celebratory contraband for their first successful full moon transformation, and it was really quite awful stuff, but at this point Remus felt like not drinking it anymore would be more effort than continuing.

"You ought to just give up, mate," James was saying by then, his sniggering spoiling rather his conciliatory tone. "You just don't seem to have the temperament for getting on with girls."

"That's because women are mad," Sirius said, "which I believe was the point I was just now making." He rested his chin back on Remus's head, the goblet safely returned. Sirius was sprawled out on his own bed with Remus sitting between his feet and pillowing his head on Sirius's thigh, and Sirius's upper body dangling at any given time in an awkward sprawl on top of Remus's. It was more comfortable than Remus might have thought it would be, although he supposed the wine might have something to do with that. James and Peter were both tumbled on the floor around them, Peter's goblet on the boards and James's hovering in a slightly wobbly fashion just above them, just for show. "Maybe I'll try something different, and go out with a walrus next time. Got to have less mustache than Jillene anyway."

This nearly killed Peter, for any number of possible reasons, and his ending up spluttering more of his wine than got in his mouth did in the rest of them for a little bit. When Remus had recovered himself -- although not too fully, he would suspect a moment later, or else he'd never have said it at all -- he leaned his head back at least partway and beamed up at Sirius. "Maybe you'd have more luck with blokes," he said, innocently, and found that he couldn't even feel too hurt when that set them all off again.

"Maybe," agreed Sirius, at length, wiping at his eyes and actually fumbling for his own goblet for once. "Except once we were married we'd always fight over the sports section in the morning paper." Even Remus knew perfectly well that wasn't really that funny, but he couldn't help laughing himself out of breath; it was mostly Peter, he thought, something about the violent shade of red Peter turned when he got the giggles good and proper made his laughter utterly contagious.

"Depends on who he is," he managed, when at last he could sort of draw air again, his vision watery. "Wouldn't have much of a fight with me, and twenty-seven days out of every twenty-eight I haven't even got much of a mustache."

...It seemed funnier and less like an apocalyptically stupid thing to say in his head, and then it was out, outside floating around the air for anyone to pick up. The words reverberated into his head, only beginning to make sense after the fact, and he froze -- as much as he could with half a bottle of wine in him anyway. Sirius did seem to be staring at him for a half a second -- and then he was howling, probably more at the fact of the joke than the content.

"Well, maybe we should go out!" Sirius declared, through his gasping breaths. "What do you say, Moony, am I boyfriend material? 'Cause I think you might be my perfect woman!"

He probably ought to have been offended at that, but he was too busy laughing -- and turning slightly pink, which he hoped everyone else would attribute to alcohol and hilarity. "God help me, then," he said, sending James pitching over all over again, and then grinned up at Sirius. "I'm game if you are."

Sirius laughed again, but this time with a little more control, and it seemed like more out of delight that he was playing than amusement. "Are you sure I'm not already, though?" he pointed out. "I mean, that's what the Slytherins keep telling me, after all."

"I don't think that's the word they use," Peter said, and hiccuped a giggle.

"I mean, I do get you chocolates a lot of times already." Sirius paused, affecting to consider. "Maybe I should get you roses too?"

"Mmm, no, I don't think so." Remus leaned his cheek on Sirius's knee and closed his eyes. He couldn't seem to stop grinning, but this whole discussion seemed very out of hand suddenly, very much not like a part of his life at all. Sirius blinked down at him.

"What, you don't like roses?"

"I like chocolate a lot more."

Sirius laughed, and scruffed a hand over the top of Remus's head, making him laugh and duck away. "Maybe I ought to get you chocolate roses!"

"Oh," Remus said, and beamed even more widely at nothing in particular. "I think I like this plan, actually."

"Well, it's settled then. I'm your boyfriend." Sirius paused again, again striking a meditative pose, and then at last added, "What's the pay like for that these days, anyway?"

And that was when Remus clawed a pillow off the head of the bed and whomped Sirius soundly with it, and in the ensuing scuffle the topic of discussion was, at least temporarily, totally forgotten.

Well. Mostly.

Probably.

 

\---

He staggered back from the bathroom to his bed to find Sirius sprawled in it, his hands thrown out in a loose tangle over his head, his hair everywhere and mouth slightly apart. "What are you doing here?" Remus asked from the gap in the curtains with a stupid smile he still couldn't seem to help, as he kicked out of his shoes, and Sirius squinted his eyes open with a half-grin that made Remus's stomach flip all around.

"Looked more comfortable." He yawned, and scratched his stomach, rucking up his t-shirt in the process; Remus tried not to look at the trailing line of dark hair, although it was difficult when he wasn't sure where he was looking at any given moment. "Hurry up and put out the light."

He did, and crawled into the bed beside Sirius, curling into what space was still left next to his large, warm body, the room tilting and spinning pleasantly in his wake. Sirius turned at once to wrap around him, tucking his head into the curve of Remus's neck and shoulder, and Remus suppressed a shiver.

"Mmm," Sirius murmured, sounding half-asleep already. His breath stirred small hairs on Remus's skin. "All right, now it's more comfortable." Remus made a small noise that he hoped was noncommittal, and let his hand drift over Sirius's hair. After a moment, he felt a smile bury itself in his shoulder. "So, 'm I doing all right at being your boyfriend so far?"

"Mm?" For a second the words didn't even make sense in Remus's head; he was so sure, Sirius was really drunk and he would have forgotten the game already -- "...In the past hour and forty-five minutes, you mean? Mm, I'd say your performance has been acceptable." He was careful to enunciate each word, and was gratified to hear Sirius laugh. After another moment, Sirius raised his head as well, aiming a slightly evil (if half-lidded) grin in his direction.

"So do we kiss good night as well, then? Or does that have to wait until the second date?"

Remus let his eyes drift closed. Already he wasn't completely sure he wasn't dreaming this, and it neither seemed safe right now to treat it too seriously nor to laugh it off. "I'm easy," he said, as lightly as possible, and Sirius laughed a little too loud in the dark quiet of his bed-curtains.

"Are you, now?" he said, leering as best a very sleepy teenager could. "Because that's a useful thing for me to know, for future..."

At which point Sirius either lost his thread or simply interrupted himself, and leaned in and kissed Remus's mouth.

It was dry and light and mostly chaste, and completely stopped Remus breathing. For the duration of the kiss he couldn't do anything, couldn't move, just hypnotized like a rabbit in front of a snake by the feeling of Sirius's lips, lightly resting on his.

Then Sirius was pulling back, laughing under his breath (nervously? could that be real?), and pecking him once on the cheek for good measure. "Well, good night, then," and Remus struggled to find the muscle strength to swallow.

"Good... good night," he said, at last, in a voice that felt dry and cracking. Sirius smiled, and settled his head back in the crook of Remus's shoulder, and it took only a few long seconds of feeling his hair tickling sensitive skin for Remus to suddenly find himself saying, "Sirius?"

"Hmm?" Sirius lifted his head, looking at him inquiringly, but before he'd so much as finished the motion Remus's mouth was on his, kissing him. This was not so light and definitely not so chaste, and hard, and wet and deep, and he couldn't think of a single reason to stop himself, and he should never, never have another drop to drink again, or else he should be drunk every single night of his life.

When he pulled back Sirius was looking at him, with a slightly fixed, unreadable expression. Remus dropped his eyes, and pretended not to have noticed it. It wasn't hard; he was certainly too close to asleep to put much work into interpreting what it meant.

"Good night," he whispered, and settled back in next to Sirius. After another long march of moments, he felt Sirius tuck his head back close again; but before he registered anything else, or perhaps before there was anything else to register, Remus closed his eyes into spinning, unsteady darkness, and was asleep at once.

 

\---

He woke up with a groan, and not in a good way, either.

"Ugh."

"Remus?" Sirius's voice, soft and drowsy. The warm weight curled around him, he realized sluggishly through the nasty taste in his mouth and dull ache in his head, had to be Sirius. He didn't think he was too badly hung over -- it didn't take that much to get him drunk, really, he supposed he was lucky that way -- but something about the wine had really hurt his head, he thought had even started to hurt it last night. "You all right?"

"No..."

He could hear the laugh in Sirius's voice. Bastard, he was. "You hung over?"

"No. ...Sort of."

"Lightweight." Sirius nuzzled the corner of his neck and shoulder, and he suppressed a shudder. "Want me to run down to breakfast, fetch you up some water and something to put on your stomach?"

"We're wizards," Remus said, possibly whining it a trifle. "Isn't there some magic to get rid of feeling lousy after drinking? Or make it so it never happened to begin with?"

"Not that they teach us fifth year, I'm afraid." The bed shifted under Sirius sitting up, stretching, yawning and scratching at his side. "Do you want breakfast? I'm a little hungry myself."

"Well... if you don't mind." And Sirius laughed a little, and startled him in the midst of rubbing his eyes by leaning in, and kissing Remus lightly on the cheek.

"Mind? Am I your boyfriend or not?"

"...My what?" Remus said, but by then Sirius had already gotten up and left.

He was as good as his word, and little though Remus wanted the greasy eggs and sausage he brought back the water tasted good, and was enough to convince him to give them a try. Strangely, it did help a bit, and he was able to sit up enough to prop himself on his pillows, keeping his eyes shut. Sirius stroked his hair back, and he was grinning again; Remus could hear it when he talked.

"So I am a good boyfriend?" he asked, soon enough, and Remus let the slight frown crease his forehead that'd been wanting to get out.

"Did I really ask you to be my boyfriend last night?"

Sirius laughed at that, although not in an unkind way, which Remus supposed was something to be grateful for at least. "Yeah."

"I didn't just dream that again?"

At least this time he was spared the immediate realization of what exactly he'd just said; it would take several long hours for that to seep gradually back in. Sirius didn't say anything for what seemed like a long time, and then laughed again, in a way that Remus didn't hear anything forced in at the moment.

"Nah."

"And you said yes?"

"Yeah."

Never dreamed that bit before, Remus might have said or might just have thought; he wasn't entirely sure, because before long he'd drifted off again, Sirius curled up next to him and stroking at his hair.

He kept waiting for the axe to fall; literally or figuratively, maybe, and he guessed that was sort of his problem. But if there was one thing he'd forgotten, it was that Sirius never, ever, in his entire stupid life, gave up on a joke before the other person involved in it did. Even -- maybe especially -- when he was starting to get the impression that the joke just wasn't funny after all.

 

\---

He was not, Remus forced himself to decide firmly by the next day at breakfast, going to make a single pun about a dog worrying at a rabbit. Especially when he sympathized so much with the rabbit in question.

"No, thank you," Sirius said airily to Septimus Davies, buttering his toast as though playing a violin sonata. "Much as I love to lend my expertise, particularly to a good Acne Enchantment, I can't risk detention today; I have a date." He said this in much the same tone as a person who wasn't completely daft would say I would like to thank my friends and family, or I am in fact the youngest person ever to receive it. Davies stared at him, then frowned.

"You always have a date, Black. What's so special about this one?"

Remus tried not to cringe in anticipation, although his hands did tighten a little bit around the covers of his Potions textbook. He'd brought it to breakfast mostly as camouflage, although he had to admit he hadn't read a single word he'd made sense of since he'd been sitting here. Out of the corner of his vision he could see James rolling his eyes to one side and Peter looking a bit gray to the other, and he stared fiercely at the book so as to avoid seeing Sirius draw himself up to his full seated height in the middle.

"The fact, Mr. Davies, that the date in question is in actuality with my beloved darling Remus Lupin. Gryffindor prefect," he added, just in case anyone had missed the benefits of status involved.

Remus sank lower behind the textbook, trying to get as much of it between him and all the eyes turning his way as possible. It turned out that it was harder not to turn scarlet by sheer willpower than he'd thought it would be.

"You may not have realized," Sirius said into the pause, a bit louder now, clearly enjoying the attention, "that we were, as they say, an item! But that is in fact the truth, pure, unvarnished, and completely not made up. I regret, of course, to inform you, ladies." This he delivered with extreme gravity to a couple of first-year girls down the table a bit, who tried not to make eye contact while they were smothering furious giggles in their hands. "I know that I'll be missed, and I ask you to please pass on my apologies to the remainder of the fairer sex."

"Can you make him be quiet?" James said to Remus, as much as he could over the top of the book. "I mean, can you? This isn't a rhetorical question, lives may be at stake."

"If I could, don't you think I would?" Remus said through his teeth. The words in front of his eyes were beginning to blur from sheer strain.

"But alas, I am, in fact, Remus Lupin's boyfriend!" Sirius declared, a little more loudly to be heard over them. "We are, it turns out, soul mates and life companions, and thus, we are dating! Seeing each other! Going together! A couple, a twosome, and a grand romance!" He banged a fist on the table for emphasis, declaring climactically: "Au pair!" And then, apparently inspired, "En flambé!"

"One of those means 'a live-in maid,' and the other one means 'on fire,'" Remus said, admirably calmly he thought, to his textbook. His hands wouldn't unclench, but he didn't seem to be able to do anything about that.

Sirius didn't miss a beat. "And both of these terms precisely describe the nature of our relationship. ...Although, of course, I can't elaborate on such intimacies in company."

"I don't actually know him," James said, conversationally, to the second-year sitting on the other side of him; the boy offered an extremely nervous and trembling smile in return. "I just thought maybe Evans preferred blokes who look like they've got friends."

"Maybe if the friends were something other than wild monkeys," Lily said, sweeping by behind him with typically alarming timing. James made a small undignified noise, whipping his head around, and then glared murderously back at Sirius for reasons Remus couldn't even begin to fathom on short notice.

"L'esprit de l'escalier!" Sirius declared, oblivious and utterly murdering the pronunciation, presumably out of fear that he had lost people's attention for a whole fifteen seconds. James rolled his eyes so hard Remus thought he might hurt himself.

"He's gone completely mental," Peter muttered, and Sirius pinned him with an accusing finger, clearly on a roll.

"Au contraire! ...Mon frère! L'état, c'est moi!"

"You're in a right state, all right," Remus told the textbook he was attempting to vanish behind in a low furious tone, but no one took any notice.

"Au jus," James returned, at last giving in to the instinct not to be outdone, and jabbed his fork into Sirius's shoulder for emphasis. Sirius sighed, deeply, hands set on the table and a look of sad betrayal on his face.

"Au revoir," he announced gravely, and stood up, affecting the Frenchest expression of snootery he could and swirling his robes around him like a cloak for added drama. And, after bending as low as he could to seize and kiss Remus's hand across the table -- Remus's weary, awkward attempts to pull it free having absolutely no effect whatsoever -- he swept off, humming what sounded at least like it was intended to be "La Marseillaise" and leaving a contrail of hysterically tittering girls down the Gryffindor table. When he was sure he was gone, Remus very quietly put his book down on the table and set his head in his hands.

"He'll forget about it in a couple of days," Peter whispered to him across the table, presumably trying to sound comforting; but staring down into the grain of the wood and finding his traitor lips trying again and again to twist up, Remus couldn't honestly have said which possibility sounded worse.

 

\---

"No," Remus said, in a tone he hoped was final, and bent lower over the parchment. For all that he'd spent exponentially more time than usual buried in school materials over the last two days, he seemed to be getting exponentially less work actually done. "Get James to go, why don't you?"

"Because," Sirius explained with depths of patience reserved for the very old and mentally enfeebled, "James and I do not have a date."

Remus glanced up, frowned, and prodded his quill threateningly at the alarming proximity of Sirius's forehead. Sirius was not to be moved. In point of fact he seemed rather to scoot his folded arms forward an inch or two along Remus's knees. Remus repressed a sigh. "Nor do we," he said at last, giving physical threats up as a bad job. "You merely have a psychosis. And I an essay."

"Hence the library!" Sirius threw up his hands, only to return them to Remus's knees afterward, much to Remus's chagrin. As if Sirius's sitting sprawled at his feet by his bedside wasn't bad enough on its own. "I gave up a perfectly good Acne Enchantment for you, Mr. Lupin, don't you tell me you're planning on standing me up."

"I can't stand you up for a date that does not exist." He'd thought he'd said this in a tone that was much calmer and more reasonable than the one he heard coming out of his mouth, and struggled for placidity. "Look -- Sirius, need I remind you that we end up going to the library together at least two or three times a week anyway, depending on how often you can be convinced: a) -- " He sketched the letter invisibly in the air with his quill-tip, ignoring Sirius's grin. " -- that there is a dim distant possibility you might actually be required to research an assignment, or more likely b) -- " and again, " -- that it would be a lark to be as loud as possible in a place known for its quietude?"

"Yes," Sirius said, and then, "quietude?"

"What?" Remus said, and then, "what?"

"Yes, you need remind me. Apparently. Quietude?"

"What?"

"What what?"

"Stop. Stop. You're not even making sentences anymore, you're just -- mimicking sounds. You're a mynah bird." Remus sighed, and pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "'Quietude' is a perfectly reasonable word and what makes this any different from any other time I have or haven't wanted to go to the library?"

"I'm not sure it even is a word and this is a date."

Remus rolled his eyes. He might not have been able to bring the same extravagance to the task that James had but he could at least muster a great deal of sincerity. "How so? What exactly makes it a date?"

"The fact that I called it one," said Sirius, with evident triumph. "Also the fact that you are now my boyfriend."

And what came to the tip of Remus's tongue and had to be instantly bitten back was: Would you stop that? You keep making it out like it's some sort of enormous joke, and it had to be bitten back, of course, because it was some sort of enormous joke. The enormous and apparently hilarious sort, in fact. If the protest would be entirely lost on Sirius it was only because it really made no sense at all.

"I'm not your boyfriend, Sirius," Remus said instead, in what he hoped was a very patient and reasonable tone of voice. He turned his attention firmly back to his essay, but not in time to miss Sirius's reeling back, clapping a hand to his chest probably hard enough to bruise.

"You're breaking up with me?" He drew a long wounded, shuddering breath that was almost too convincing. "Fie, Remus! Fie and also alack! I should have known all along that you'd only break my heart."

"You haven't got a heart," Remus told his parchment, another fine line digging its way between his brows. "You have a chunk of coal slag with arteries."

"And you're breaking it!" It was hardly even worth noting that he never missed a beat. Sirius hit all the beats. No beat was safe. He shifted up onto his knees, shuffling even nearer on them, making Remus nearly splotch ink on his face. Not that he wouldn't have deserved it. "Tell me what I can do to make it up to you. I'll leap mountains and trim forests and drink oceans, and, er, eat meadows." Remus's composure finally cracked at this last, though, and the laughter had snorted its way free before he could even think of stopping it; Sirius bounced to his feet in victory. "Get my tongue stuck to polar ice caps! Urinate in deserts until they become meadows, then eat them!"

"You ought to be locked up," Remus informed him, through occasional shaking shoulders, with a hand sealed over his eyes. "I mean it. You are gravely ill."

"Only with love for you," Sirius said, and managed to sound so almost solemn enough about it that it dried the laughter in Remus's throat. He cleared it instead, shaking himself enough to smile back down at his parchment.

"All right," he said, at last; "I'll go to the library with you, but only if you promise you won't spend the whole time humiliating me in public."

"Not the whole time?" Sirius asked, and Remus caught the grin from the corner of his eye, and sighed.

"...Yes. I need at least five-minute breaks." And that made Sirius laugh, which was always an oddly good, warm feeling. To say nothing of the hand he held out, palm-up, to pull Remus up from the bed -- even if it was only half a joke, and the other half just the same way Sirius always was.

"I suppose I can work something out," Sirius said, and in retrospect maybe Remus should have attributed more to his grin than he did.

 

\---

True to his word, Sirius was rather more subdued in the library, in spite of persistent attempts to hold Remus's hand and the most ostentatious yawn-and-drop maneuver in all of human history, which even Remus had to admit was rather amusing. The more inclined Remus seemed to play along, in fact, the less inclined Sirius seemed to escalate the game to the point of obnoxiousness. It was hard to know exactly how to feel about that.

It was actually almost fun when no one else was around, nonetheless -- for a variety of reasons -- and when Sirius, sprawling beside him on his bed that evening, tried with the least subtlety humanly possible to put a hand on Remus's knee, Remus turned his legs aside with a show of prim modesty that actually made Sirius laugh too hard to be a nuisance for a moment.

Not that it could last. "Has the magic died?" Sirius demanded, leaning into Remus's personal space in a very doglike manner. All he was missing was the panting, and that not from far off. "The magic has died. Forty-six hours and the magic has died. Maybe I made a miscalculation here, you're higher-maintenance than ten girls put together."

"You still haven't brought me chocolate," Remus said, mildly. He was leaning over to fiddle with the hands of his clock -- he'd been fighting off puzzlement about why he didn't just use a wizarding one since first year, but he just couldn't stand a timepiece wanting to shout at him all the time -- but when he turned back, he saw Sirius had a broad, evil smile on his face, and a bar of Honeyduke's best-quality milk already out in his hand. For a second he couldn't do anything but gape; the whole experience was rather hallucinatory. His voice seemed to find itself for him long before he would have had any hope of doing so. "...how did you...?"

"James and I found a secret passage a few weeks back. This is your favorite, isn't it?" Remus put a hand over his face for a moment.

"You know, I'm going to just assume you paid for that and not actually ask."

"Probably for the best." Remus sighed, and accepted the bar, trying without success to keep the corners of his mouth from twitching up. Sirius beamed, which he still managed to make an expression best qualified as 'evil.' "Now will you keep me?"

"I'll consider it," Remus allowed. He considered the chocolate bar, then sighed and unwrapped the top left corner. No point in not starting it now.

"And now do I get a kiss good night?" Sirius had now gone well beyond evil versions of ordinary expressions and straight into leering. Remus attempted to fix him with a withering look, which was very difficult when he was acutely aware that he beginning to lose his grip and blush again.

"Can't kiss. Eating."

"I'll wait."

Remus rubbed at his cheekbones, and then finally had to give up and discreetly turn his head away. Trying to pretend he wasn't aware of Sirius smirking. "Well, don't -- hover, that's disturbing."

"I have to, I'm staking my claim. Like a vulture." Sirius considered. "Didn't you say I was a vulture?"

"I said you were a mynah bird. There could not be two birds less alike in character or in name than vultures and mynah birds."

"Chirp," Sirius said, around the corner of Remus's turned head, grinning. Remus planted a hand in his face and shoved it away with all possible dignity.

"Vultures don't chirp," he said, around the chocolate in his mouth. "Nor do dogs. Even ridiculous ones."

"I'm starting a trend." Sirius swiveled and flopped back, landing with his head across Remus's lap and his arms stretched out above it. "Chirp chirp. How much chocolate do I have to buy before you'll put out, anyway?"

In as dignified a fashion as possible, Remus choked.

Somewhere in between laughing and snaking an arm around to thump Remus on the back Sirius let his eyes close, but not before Remus could catch the light of what looked like a small, speculative gleam inside them: a considering look that he didn't know if he much cared for. It might only have been his imagination anyway. He made sure to get chocolate crumbs all over Sirius's face, though, just in case.

 

\---

By the time three days had passed since he had somehow accidentally started all this absurdity, Remus had come to two conclusions about Sirius. One of them was that he thought he knew why Sirius never managed to keep a girlfriend for more than what seemed like a few minutes, and that was because what Sirius considered to be "courtship behavior" seemed to be more commonly considered to be "criminal sexual harassment."

Take, for instance, the time when one evening Remus was tacking up prefects' notices in the Gryffindor common room, and Sirius -- who against all evidence could be unfortunately stealthy when the urge took him -- crept up behind him and took a quite large and firm grab of Remus's bottom. Remus, with all of the stately grace and composure due to a Gryffindor prefect, promptly lost all muscle coordination, flailed, and fell down.

To his eternal gratitude no one had actually been paying attention to the cause, so the worst further humiliation he had to suffer was a lot of puzzled amusement and some applause, and of course Sirius bending down over him, hand outstretched, grinning unrepentantly. "Need a hand?" he inquired, all innocence, and Remus glowered at him for a few seconds before batting it away.

"I'm fine," he said, through his teeth as he climbed to his feet, certain he was putting prize tomatoes to shame, "and I think you could stand to learn to keep your hands to yourself."

He was also fortunate in that he'd kept on his outer robes, and kept thanking providence for it in a mutter all the way back to the dormitory. ...He was less fortunate, though, in that by the end of these three days he was afraid he was starting to develop a bit of tennis elbow.

The other thing he had concluded, though, and possibly the only reason why he hadn't already issued Sirius written notice of the termination of their friendship, was that the reason Sirius seemed so particularly odd lately was because, for whatever reason, this whole charade was putting the other boy into an unparalleled good mood. It had only dawned on Remus gradually, in recent memory, that he thought most of what made Sirius Black so often unpleasant to be around was the fact that Sirius was really very unhappy most of the time, and usually just made a pretense of having a good time so that the people around him would feel like they were missing out on something. Which, all right, was a very uncharitable way of thinking about it, but also not one that Remus sensed was particularly inaccurate for all of that. Still, the only time Remus could remember ever having seen him more cheerful was just last month, just after he had first turned back from a grinning dog into a grinning boy in front of Remus, with James and Peter doing the same alongside him each in their own ways, and Remus left gaping and almost entirely speechless... which, well, also wasn't a line of thought that much made it easy to stay angry.

Still...

But no.

But -- oh, why not admit it. Still, it would be nice if what had cheered Sirius so immensely hadn't been a joke at all.

"What are you playing at, anyway?" Remus found himself asking, low, over dinner, what he judged to be a safe length of time after Sirius had finished declaring quite casually, of his most recent detention, that it was rough being a prefect's beloved as everyone's expectations became so high. Sirius glanced at him, half-grinning, although Remus almost fancied it faltered slightly when Sirius saw whatever expression was on his own face.

"What d'you mean?" Remus didn't dignify that with an answer, and finally Sirius let out a short laugh. "Come on, you were the one who suggested it in the first place."

Remus attempted to fix him with a withering stare, which experience indicated would probably come out more pathetic and downtrodden. "It was also suggested in the same conversation that you date a walrus, and you haven't seen fit to carry through on that."

Sirius shrugged. "I don't know any walruses. And I know a Remus, so there you are." He paused, putting fingers to his lips to consider. Remus tried not to look. "Is the plural of walrus 'walri'? ...Is the plural of Remus 'Remi'?"

"What -- no. No. Stop trying to confuse me." Remus sighed, and set down his fork. "I just -- how long is this going to go on? Why do you keep doing it?"

Sirius's staring hesitation seemed a bit longer this time; a bit too long, honestly. "Because I'm enjoying it," he said, and where some good humour might have died candor was coming in to fill its place. Well, at least that was something. "Aren't you? Enjoying it?"

"I just don't understand," Remus said, and again with more force than necessary. He made himself take a breath. "I mean, it isn't as though you're -- sincere, I just -- "

"You were going to say 'serious,' weren't you," Sirius interrupted, strugglingly straight-faced and mouth twitching. Remus sighed.

"No. ...Yes."

"And then I would have had to contradict you because clearly I am, wouldn't I."

"I can only assume."

"That's a real problem with talking to me, isn't it."

"There are many real problems with talking to you." Remus rubbed his forehead. "I just don't know what this is about."

"Are you two talking about the future of your relationship and such already?" James asked from a few seats up the table, loudly. "Merlin's beard, Sirius, I thought you said you weren't going to date birds anymore."

"James, go fall off of something enormous," Remus said with all available composure.

"Hear, hear," Lily Evans said absently from the other side of him. Her nose was figuratively buried in what appeared to be a book of Italian poetry, and for a moment a small, much-abused part of Remus frankly yearned, as a flower toward the sun, to develop some more than academic interest in girls.

Sirius somehow managed to ignore all of this. "Why does it have to be about something?" He laughed again, but there was something almost like an edge in it, not quite anger but only a curious tension. "Since when is anything I do?"

Since when is anything you do not? Remus almost said, but that really would make Sirius angry, and he'd have nothing to blame but himself. He bit his lip, keeping the words in. "Never mind," he muttered instead, and picked up his fork again to pick at his cooling pork loin. "Do whatever you like."

He only looked up again several moments later, frowning, when he realized Sirius was staring at him. "You are inscrutable, you know?" was all Sirius said, though, when Remus shot him a testy look, and he could have sworn he'd caught that odd speculative look back in Sirius's eyes -- a momentary fire of sun off metal. "No, you are. I have a terrible time scruting you. I have never known anyone harder to scrute."

"That's not even a word," Remus said, at the same time that James said helpfully at maximum volume, "BEST WORK ON YOUR AIM."

Sirius picked up a salt cellar and threw it at James without changing expression or looking around. It flew true, though, although that didn't stop James from catching it neatly an inch from his glasses, judging by the sound of Peter's spontaneous applause. For a wild vertiginous moment Remus wondered if they had actually planned that out ahead of time, between the two of them, entirely to give James an excuse to show off. He wouldn't put it past either. "Doesn't matter, it's true," Sirius said. "You're very mysterious. Secretive."

Remus raised his eyebrows even as he lowered his voice. "Well," he said at last, "I have had to keep a few secrets in my time, you may be aware."

Sirius flapped a dismissing hand. "Yeah, but I know those already." He gave Remus's face another long, intent look. "But I think you've got other ones I don't even know about."

Remus stared back, trying not to let on how extremely uncomfortable this conversation was starting to make him, trying not to notice how close together their faces were, with them sitting side-by-side at the Gryffindor table, or how bottomlessly deep Sirius's eyes seemed to be. "Aren't I allowed to have some secrets?" he said, finally, trying to smile. "I mean... some things might be better kept to yourself."

Sirius's good humour didn't exactly fade this time, but it did seem to take on an edge of rueful amusement -- something more patient than the usual snappish sulk that marked when his feelings had been hurt. It still managed to make Remus feel guilty, however. "Whatever you like," he echoed, and then pushed back in a way that let Remus relax slightly, as though the matter were closed. And then, out of nowhere: "What if I were?"

Remus blinked. "What?"

"Sincere," Sirius said, and for an instant, looked it.

He didn't look away even for a second, and suddenly Remus felt like he couldn't. His palms were suddenly soaked on the wood tabletop. "...Sirius -- "

"That too." He had a tiny smile again now, tiny and spreading, and that was what made Remus finally able to break away and look down. He couldn't even think of holding Sirius's eyes in the face of that smile.

"What do you mean?" he said, to the remains of his now surely abandoned dinner, trying to control his voice.

"I just said. What if I were?"

Remus made an effort to collect himself. A heroic effort. Herculean, even. "...Why would you even ask that?"

"'Cause I want to know." He risked another glance back at Sirius's face. Apart from that tiny smile, the expression there was utterly unreadable.

Nothing inside Remus snapped, exactly -- but something certainly did twinge.

"It doesn't matter," he said, and found his voice harsh under a thin veneer of humour -- almost cutting. "You aren't. You aren't even when you go with girls, I don't think, but at least there you have some sort of precedent to follow." He thought he caught some sort of expression on Sirius's face now, and it was surprise above all else, but he was pushing back and up and away from the table before he could get a proper view. "I have to go. I have a prefects' meeting."

"Oi -- " But he was going, escaping, before he could be pulled back or his name called. For a few lunatic seconds he actually had the urge to run, and nearly gave in to it before he could calm himself.

Which was probably why Sirius caught him in the hallway outside the Great Hall, before he could make it to the stairs. Stupid, stupid self-control.

"Oi, Remus!" He stopped at the sound of Sirius's voice, his shoulders slumping; there was no point in trying to pretend he hadn't heard. He didn't turn, though, not until Sirius came up close enough behind him, caught him by his arm and turned him around. What glimpses he was willing to catch of Sirius's face now merely made him feel tired: baffled and concerned and cross and wounded all rolled together, into the same old exhausting story. "What's got into you?"

"Nothing," Remus said, mostly toward the floor. "I have a meeting."

"Bollocks, what was that all about?" Sirius was still gripping his arm, and hard enough to make pulling away unobtrusively impossible. When he didn't respond, Sirius just sighed. "Look, do you mind or don't you? Just tell me. I didn't mean for it to be such a big deal."

"I don't care," Remus said with his eyes closed, and only managed to rein himself back in when he realized he was nearly shouting. "Look, I don't. It's not a big deal. It's lovely that you're having a laugh at my expense, I'm very happy for you, and I don't care and I have a meeting, all right?"

But now Sirius was pulling him even further aside, nearly under the stairs, and looking at him more intently than ever; and there was a small curious frown between his eyebrows that Remus could think of no way he could possibly face.

"Do you wish I did mean it?" Sirius asked, finally.

And Remus finally lost his grip altogether.

His temper flared, surged, and ate him alive, like standing in the way of a flood of lava. He couldn't seem to part his teeth enough to talk; the words just boiled out in between: "Is there anything to you but ego, or is that it all the way down?"

He didn't want to look at Sirius's face after that, but felt Sirius's grip relax; and he broke both his arms away from Sirius's, his body away from the wall, while Sirius was still presumably too stunned to stop him. Once he was clear it felt like he could breathe a little better, and he straightened his vest, struggling for dignity. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that," he said, almost by rote. He didn't bother even trying to say I didn't mean that instead; right now he doubted he could have done so and sounded at all... well, sincere. "I just... I have a meeting."

And he went before Sirius could even say a word; and this time, Sirius didn't chase him down.

 

\---

By the time Remus got back to the dormitory it was getting late, and he was exhausted from worrying about what would happen when he did All he found, though, was Peter gone to bed, and James sitting up reading Quidditch magazines on his bed in the dim light, lit wand held over the pages. When Remus came in and paused, James looked up, met his eyes, and shrugged expressively, jerking a finger in the direction of the closed curtain around Sirius's bed. Remus sighed. Well, it could be worse -- much worse -- but he was tired, damn it. He didn't want to nurse Sirius's fragile pride back to health, especially after the beating his own had been taking lately. He just wanted to go to bed... and for a wonder, he did, without another word for anyone. There was never so much as a sound from Sirius's bed, and eventually Remus was even able to decide he didn't care.

When he woke up in the morning everyone was gone but Peter, and by the time he got back from the bathroom his shower and the gnawing sensation at the bottom of his stomach had served to wake him up more than enough for conversation. "Do you know where Sirius went?" he asked Peter, who glanced up from his textbook to shrug.

"I think he said he was going to the library." Peter straightened up a little, setting the book face down across his knees. "...Did you have a row last night?"

Remus smiled, wanly, glancing around the room with no particular object but to avoid making eye contact. "I... suppose so. It's hard to tell sometimes." He was surprised, when he glanced back at Peter, to find him nodding in apparent sympathy. "Did he seem angry?"

Peter shrugged again. "He seemed like Sirius," he said, which Remus also supposed was answer enough in itself. "I just stayed out of his way. James is at breakfast but I came back early, I wanted to finish studying."

"Thanks, Peter," Remus said, and was almost out the door when Peter's voice -- in the extremes of hesitancy -- stopped him.

"Did you..." There was a faint, audible swallow. "...break up?"

Remus turned, frowning, and looked at Peter for a long moment. And then suddenly had to bite his tongue inside his mouth very hard to keep from breaking down into whooping, hysterical laughter. If he got started now, he might never be able to stop, and who knew how long all this might end up going on?

"We still aren't really dating," Remus said, instead, as kindly as possible. His voice only shook very slightly with the effort. "It's just a joke." He thought for a moment, and found that the frown had crept gradually back across his face. "...I think."

"Oh." He tried not to read too much into how obviously relieved Peter looked. "Um. Oh. ...No, I know, I guess. It's just, um... it's a bit..."

"Confusing," Remus finished for him, still frowning. "Yes. I know."

Skipping breakfast was no great hardship; he wasn't very hungry anyway. Almost no one was in the library at this hour, but Sirius was still nowhere to be seen; after poking around in the back stacks, however (keeping a nervous eye out to see if Madam Pince was tracking him), he finally found him, sitting on the floor between two sets of shelving at the edge of the Restricted Section, his back against one and bouncing tiny balled-up fragments of parchment off the shelf divider of the other. There was a small littered pile of them just across from his feet. Remus endeavoured with great difficulty not to have a headache just looking at it.

Sirius didn't look up when Remus came down the aisle, even when Remus came to stand over him, but that was to be expected. He was clearly a very busy man. "Are you angry?" Remus asked, quietly and mostly rhetorically.

"How would I be?" Sirius said in an even, measured tone, getting a good firm ricochet off one particular ball. "There's nothing to me but ego, is there?"

"Well, I suppose I might have offended it," Remus said, attempting not to smile. Sirius finally looked at him enough to glare, and he did his best to look contrite. "I'm sorry, Sirius," he said, instead, and at last found it in him to add: "I didn't mean it."

Sirius was still looking back at him, another ball of parchment held in his hand. "Yes you did," he said, at last, and sounded almost amused. Which was at least a promising sign, probably. Remus considered.

"...At the time, maybe, but not in general." He knelt down across the aisle from Sirius, and began absently to sweep up the bits of parchment into his hand. Sirius chucked another one while he was there, and it of course hit Remus lightly in the head and then caught in the hair at the nape of his neck. He endured this, and removed it, with patient battered dignity.

"You never answered my question," Sirius said finally, after a long pause. Remus didn't bother to look up to see his expression.

"No," he said. "And I don't plan to, if you were going to ask."

"Any particular reason?"

Rather than answer, Remus got to first one foot and then the other, and took the parchment balls off to the nearest bin to sweep them off his hands. When he came back he sat down on the floor next to Sirius. "Just let it go, Sirius," he said, at last, at least trying to be gentle. "I'm not angry, but it's not funny anymore." He took a small breath, and then amended, "It was never all that funny."

Sirius jerked forward, out of nowhere, sitting straight up and spilling unused parchment fragments from both sides of his lap. "You are inscrutable," he said, exploding it out of himself, fixing Remus with a sudden stare. "I can never work out for the life of me what you're thinking, and I'm sick of it, it drives me mad."

Remus sighed. "Maybe I don't want you to know what I'm thinking all the time."

"I'm not talking about all the time, I'm talking about when it's important!" He looked furious, but so wearily so that there was almost a helpless quality to it, almost childlike. There were dark smudges under his eyes, Remus finally noticed. "You could say things now and then, like, 'Sirius, you're being really irritating with this stupid joke, please stop it,' or, 'Sirius, I apparently am interested in kissing you when I'm drunk and now I shall explain to you what that is about, for your future infor --'"

"Shut up!" Remus was alarmed to hear his voice come out a few octaves higher than it normally did, but seemed helpless to stop himself. "Please shut up, Sirius, I don't want -- "

"Well, what if I do?" Sirius's library-lowered voice was just barely strained down from being a hoarse shout by now, and Remus supposed they were going to get tossed out at any moment. "I'm the one who's been trying to be careful and -- nice about things the last few days and getting snapped at and insulted for the trouble, and I feel like I deserve some sort of an explanation!"

For only a second, Remus could only gape at him.

And then --

"You are impossible!" he nearly roared in half a whisper himself, and the slight widening of Sirius's eyes brought him some small satisfaction; he could feel his lips lifting from his teeth in a snarl, and somehow his hands had gotten fisted up in Sirius's tie and the front of his shirt. "Impossible! Why do I even tolerate you, let alone fancy you? An explanation -- a black eye is what you deserve! As if it isn't bad enough, without you making a huge joke of it, like not only would it never ever happen but apparently it's just hilarious to even think of -- and you actually have the bloody cheek -- "

And then he realized he was too angry to think of anything else to finish that sentence with, so he just hauled Sirius in by his half-done tie and kissed him hard instead.

He was dimly aware, somewhere in the fading, distant sane vestiges of his largely absent mind, that Sirius was kissing back, beginning to curl a hand around his upper arm -- but only after long furious moments of raking Sirius's mouth with his tongue and teeth harder than he probably would have ever even dared fantasize about, and by then he had already thought of more to say. Their mouths separated on a wet popping sound. " -- to tell me that it's somehow my fault for being drunk and not managing to keep my mouth shut before I could say something stupid, when the three of you had been abusing your stupid privileges all night long -- " he went on as though he'd never been interrupted, still holding Sirius's tie. Sirius's mouth still hovered throughout, wet and dazed and open, inches away. "-- and maybe it is my fault a bit and you weren't exactly to know and you probably don't even deserve my shouting at you now except I don't care because I'm angry, and it has been a really long three days and I don't think I can wank anymore without doing some sort of permanent damage and in about five minutes I'm going to probably really, really regret saying all of this, so -- "

There was no good way to finish that, either, and Sirius's mouth again served him much better. This time Sirius did seem to be a bit more ready for him.

"And for another thing -- " he wound up again, the second he reeled back this time -- and then Sirius was catching him by the shoulders, scrambling and breathless, digging his fingers into Remus's shirt over his arms.

"No, Remus, Remus, come on -- " he gasped, and there was hair in his eyes and a lot of color in his cheeks and suddenly Remus's train of thought was quite fully and effectively derailed just by really looking at him. "Can we just stick to the other part, please, I really like it a lot better."

"Well -- " Remus found himself at a bit of a loss momentarily. "...so do I, actually."

And they stared at each other for half a second, before discovering that they were both laughing so hysterically it was almost painful, and then kissing, and then somehow also doing both at once.

He was hauled up onto Sirius's sprawling lap, straddling Sirius's hips with his knees, gnawing and pulling at Sirius's lower lip with an abandon he could hardly believe of himself. Sirius's hands kneaded up in Remus's vest, pulling it up to free his shirt underneath, and then grabbed fistfuls of the shirt itself and pulled its tail out of Remus's trousers, up and loose. With skin bared at Remus's lower back he put both of his large, hot palms on it, and Remus arched with them and hissed breath when his groin brushed against Sirius's. He had just a second's dizzy impression of feeling Sirius's erection under the many layers of fabric when Sirius suddenly pushed his hands down, down the back of Remus's trousers and his pants as well to cup skin-to-skin over each side of his arse, and squeeze. That more or less did in Remus's capacity for noticing things. His deep groan was swallowed in Sirius's mouth, but nothing could stop the sudden, rough jerk of his hips, grinding them against Sirius's, making Sirius make a small choked sound and suck on Remus's tongue, and also making Sirius's back rebound sharply off the bookshelf behind it and a short swift volley of books topple down with a crashing series of thuds onto Remus's head.

Which might have been all right if one of them hadn't started screaming.

Remus had no way of knowing how they ever managed to detangle and jump to their feet the second before Madam Pince appeared at the head of the aisle, wild-eyed and one side of her face twitching alarmingly, but somehow it happened. "Accident," he wheezed, clutching his chest, before she could even open her mouth. And tried to maneuver things so his lower body was at least slightly hidden by Sirius. "Tripped."

"He tripped," Sirius repeated him on a slight overlap, helpfully. He pointed vaguely in the shelf's direction, his chest rising and falling very rapidly. "Fell into the books. Then the books, er. Fell into him." Remus pointed at his head, attempting a sympathetic smile. "Terribly sorry. Never happen again." Madam Pince, however, appeared unsurprisingly unmoved.

"No horseplay in the library," Madam Pince whispered with a tautness that spoke of impending outrage. Nor was its prediction false. She gathered a long, shaking breath into her thin chest, but by then they were already backing away. "Out! Out! This instant!"

"Well, that was lucky," Sirius said, still short of breath, as soon as the library doors had banged shut again behind them. "...In a manner of speaking."

Remus closed his eyes, breathed deeply, leaned on the wall, and attempted to find something in his throat but pure wordless whining. "In the manner that she didn't kill us both?" he asked at last. To his relief, his voice was a husk, but serviceable.

"More or less." Sirius glanced at him, and a huge grin spread over his face, transmuting in time into a burst of what were almost giggles. For a second Remus could do nothing but stare at him, and it was enough time for him to get back under control enough to speak. "...I broke you," he managed, at last. "You snapped. I didn't... I didn't even know it could be done. Maybe I'll win some sort of award."

"I did no such thing," Remus said, still with his eyes only barely opened. They were still close together, side-by-side with backs against the door, and he felt sure he could actually feel heat radiating off of Sirius's skin.

"I heard you go." Soft, suppressed snickers. "Crunch."

"I'll deny everything." Remus swallowed. "We need to... go. Somewhere. That isn't here."

"Yeah. Um. Yeah." Sirius shoved hair out of his eyes, taking a long breath and letting it out heavily. Remus thought of telling him that looking like that was not helping him think, but supposed Sirius probably couldn't really help it. "...That passage behind the suit of armor over in the east wing?"

Remus wrinkled his nose. "It's past where the Slytherins like to hang about -- "

"Ugh. Right. ...And I guess it is sort of full of spiders. Um. Shack?"

"Mm. Too far." Remus thought for a moment, and then couldn't suppress a very faint groan. "Much, much too far."

"Dorm?"

"Peter's there."

"So we'll toss him out."

"That's terrible, and he'll know why."

"So?" Sirius considered. "...Actually, all right, fair." He glanced around, took another heavy breath, and then grabbed Remus's wrist. Even that little skin contact made it hard to think about much else. "We should get moving, though, people might actually want the library."

"Mmph," Remus agreed, and followed, tripping on his own feet. "Classroom?" he put in, after a moment of what he considered to be legendary effort.

"Er." Sirius laughed, shakily. "Going to be classes in most of those before long."

"...Oh, hell, classes. We're skiving off, aren't we."

"You were ill and I had to keep you from swallowing your tongue," Sirius said promptly, and rather too comfortably in Remus's opinion. He sighed, and found that rather shaky as well.

"I'm a prefect."

"A prefect who's apparently used up his entire week's allotment of wanking off already, from what I hear," Sirius said, and only by grace of his hand did Remus not fall down again. "So stop complaining and think."

"...I actually said that," Remus managed, after a moment. He could almost hear Sirius's grin.

"You did."

"Ah. Well. Just so you know, after this, you will have to kill me."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Remus was pretty sure they'd actually started to go in circles and Sirius's suggestion of just flopping down in the hallway might soon start to seem like a viable solution when Sirius stopped suddenly, nearly making Remus crash into him. "...Is there normally a door there?"

Remus looked, but was already fairly certain he'd no idea. Sirius was the one who remembered things like locations of possible hiding places. "Um." Not that it mattered; Sirius was already opening it.

The room inside was perhaps ten feet square, lushly carpeted, and blessedly quiet. Its only furnishing was an extremely large, extremely broad, extremely ornate chaise lounge with scrolled and curlicued walnut legs and trim, and what appeared to be deep red velvet upholstery. Several small matching throw pillows were heaped at one end. The light, which came from no source Remus could identify, was moodily dim, and a rather suspicious-looking endtable with drawers in stood to the head of the chaise. And a row of approximately six heavy locks lined the inside of the door.

Sirius looked in on all this, considering, for long, long moments. "Huh," he said at last; and then, presently: "You know, I can't help but think this looks a bit of a trap."

"Do you care?" Remus asked, wincing at the fine edge of strain he could hear on his voice, and Sirius grinned.

"Not a lot, no. In, in, then, lock it up."

Remus did, shoving Sirius in ahead of him -- a lot harder than necessary -- and turning to the locks with shaking, slick fingers. It was hard to even hold onto most of them, let alone get them to turn.

"Of course, if it's not a trap, this all suggests things about the school founders I'd just as soon not have considered," Sirius remarked, from where he'd fallen over the chaise and now seemed content to just sprawl with his legs apart. "It's all very disturbing, to be honest. Can you even tell where that music is coming from?"

"Do shut up," Remus muttered, mostly to the door, and then finally satisfied himself enough that it was locked to fling himself away and stumble onto the couch himself. "Ow. I hate you very much. What were we doing?"

"This," Sirius said, and pulled Remus's mouth back in with no hesitation at all.

"Oh, yes," Remus murmured, a moment later, surfacing for only bare seconds; "that."

They ended up in much the same position they'd been in in the library -- testament to how Sirius preferred to sit like he wanted someone in his lap, and very pleasant considering how much Remus had been enjoying that before. Sirius's back landed on the arm of the chaise with Remus above and atop him, and the pillows were kicked to the floor almost at once. Remus managed to get Sirius's tie off -- it wasn't hard, considering he never managed to do it up much past half-mast anyway -- and toss it over the side, but that was as far as he was able to get with anything useful; Sirius's tongue stood firmly in the way of rational thought. His hips ground down when Sirius reeled him in by his lower back, and he bit on a whimper against Sirius's lips, twisting a bit of Sirius's shirt up in his fingers.

A hand slipped around his side to his belly, and started yanking again at his vest and shirt, again pulling the latter free of his trousers in the front as well as the back. Remus was only dimly aware of any of this happening, though, right up until Sirius's palm scraped shocking warmth down his belly, down to tug one-handed at his flies. Remus drew a hissing shaking breath mostly from Sirius's mouth and broke away just slightly. "I -- " he said in a voice more breath than not, and then realized he didn't know what to say; so he just pushed his mouth back into Sirius's and gave up his handfuls of Sirius's shirt to help that wandering hand.

Sirius had nice hands. He'd always thought so. They were large and angular and a bit rough and usually warm, still a little puppy-outsized for the rest of him, and felt pleasant to the touch. Remus had never much expected to learn how one of them felt on his cock, but... but any way he could possibly finish that thought would be inadequate.

Large fingers sought him out inside his trousers and underwear and tugged him free, and then wrapped him, and then suddenly he couldn't kiss anymore, just lean back to drop his head back on his shoulders and pant breaths fast and hard as bullets. Sirius made some sound, some soft sound, as Remus's hips shifted, and his other hand curled over Remus's hip, holding it tight and pressing down. His hand slid up and Remus bit his lip hard. He could feel mainly heat, and the slight stickiness of sweat-damp, but also just the faintest catch of callus that Sirius had on his fingers --

He scrambled suddenly, fumbling underneath him without much success before realizing that maybe he should open his eyes and look down for this, but Sirius just tightened his hand on his hip, laughing with no breath. "No, no, it's fine, just -- just stay right where you are," he said, fast, and pulled Remus's hip in again for emphasis, arching his own body up into it. Now Remus could identify a particular heat and hardness under him in the mess of hot and angular things that was Sirius, pressed slightly uncomfortably under his rear... actually pressed rather between and while that wasn't really comfortable either, it was almost where it would go -- oh god -- well... if they weren't both wearing trousers, that was -- oh god -- He let out a small but long keening sound and an ungraceful writhing motion that seemed to accomplish nothing but making Sirius lose his grip slightly. ...He was going to need more practice at this.

And then Sirius took advantage of having his hand returned to bring it to his mouth and slick its palm briefly with his tongue and he was not going to have time to get more practice at this, he was going to die right now.

Goodbye everyone, Remus thought distantly, as Sirius's hand curled much more pleasantly around him, it's been a nice and extremely embarrassing life, not least because now they'll have to carve on my tombstone DIED OF SEX WITH SIRIUS BLACK, PROBABLY ONE OF MANY --

The thought dissolved when Sirius started stroking, as did all thought. All that really seemed to be left that was easy enough was thrusting and making extremely stupid noises.

It did help a bit that Sirius was groaning through his teeth before long, and holding Remus down by his hip so tightly that it was probably going to bruise. He made a few dim efforts to rub deliberately against Sirius's cock, which was gratifying each time -- Sirius shoving his head back into the couch, his hair splaying, eyes slitted and a moan trembling out of his lips. All of which, of course, just made Remus have to shove himself harder back into Sirius's hand, and start the whole thing over again. Some thought about being between a hand and a hard place drifted serenely through his newly idiotic mind and then was gone in favor of, I'm either going to come or die now, I think, I'm not really sure --

"Sirius -- S-Sirius I -- " His voice sounded more like a slow air leak, but Sirius seemed to take his meaning at once. He had a vague impression of Sirius grinning, or at least showing his teeth -- then his hand clamped, and squeezed, and seemed to shift to double-time, and a yelp tore out of Remus's throat that turned into something between a shout and a cry and all of him seemed to jerk and shake apart --

And then he was collapsed at an angle over Sirius's chest, soaking in sweat all down his back and along his scalp, gulping air. The first thing he became aware of again, when he began to be aware of anything again, was that Sirius was now grinding up against him in earnest, gripping him for all he was worth and rubbing his cock hard into Remus's arse. A tiny sound escaped his lips and his softening prick actually twitched slightly in the loose circle of Sirius's hand it was still in, as though to protest something as desperately, murderously arousing as this happening when it was too spent to appreciate it.

Sirius only continued to hold on for a few ticks, until he realized his loose circling hand round Remus's cock wasn't doing anyone any good any longer, and let it go in favor of a much tighter one around the other side of Remus's lower body. With his leverage thus improved he really went after it, the whole chaise shuddering underneath them. Some length of time passed, incalculable to Remus, half-aware across Sirius's chest with his sweaty torso pressed into Sirius's sweaty torso and the smell of Sirius's hair filling his senses. He at least had time to think, a little less drowsily: This is a lot like what it would be like, I expect, if we did -- to which his cock offered another feeble, indignant twitch.

Then at some point Sirius clutched one hand hard into Remus's rear, the other up into his hair, and with a last crazed spike of writhing let out a hoarse clamped shout along Remus's neck and then fell, gasping, back to the chaise. Remus thought of incriminating evidence, on both of them for that matter, but too late, too late. He couldn't much bring himself to care anyway.

And Sirius was kissing him again, anyway, so that was all right.

When they finally broke apart, lazily, and Remus struggled up to something like a sitting position across Sirius's hips, Sirius remained sprawled, looking up at him with an eyebrow raised. "Wait," he said, still breathing fast, his voice just a bit hoarse and smoky; "wait, so... does this mean I'm actually your boyfriend, then?"

"I..." Remus considered, but only for an instant. "Yes," he said, firmly. Extremely firmly. "Yes. It does. That is what it means."

Sirius shrugged. "All right, then." The grin that had clearly been wanting to escape his mouth began to make it out one side. "...So does that mean I have to stop speaking in fake French and such to you in the -- "

"Yes," Remus said, nearly through his teeth. Sirius affected a considering frown.

"Are you sure? Because I think that would be pretty good camouflage, actu--"

"I don't care!" Remus cut him off again, and pinned Sirius's shoulders down under his hands, leaning in almost nose-to-nose. "Yes, you have to stop. You have to stop very much."

"Ah, well." Sirius paused for another long, pregant moment, and then said, casually, "Puis que c'est comme ça je vais parler le vrai français a partir de maintenant."

His accent was flawless. For what felt like the eight hundredth time today, Remus spent a long moment able to do nothing but stare.

"You utter bloody sodding bastard," was all that would come out, once he had finally found his tongue again. He could not precisely explain the outrage; only be entirely convinced that it was deserved. ...Well, the slight reflexive shiver down his back at Sirius speaking liquid throaty French nearly into his ear might have had something to do with it.

Sirius grinned, and said in Remus's ear, "I guess you're not the only one allowed to keep secrets."

And before Remus could properly formulate any one of probably a thousand cutting and well-reasoned answers to that, they were kissing again; and it occurred to him shortly that none of them probably mattered anyway.


End file.
